We didn’t hold much conversation while we were getting supper and soon after I saw he was dividing the bedding, which was a very small amount, so I decided he did not want to sleep with me. So I took my cut and went to bed. He set by the fire. We had coffee enough to last about a week, but he made coffee and drank it all night, so when I got up we didn’t have any coffee for breakfast. I think those little pills gave out on him and he used the coffee as a substitute. Anyway he must have got kindhearted in the night sometime, as when I woke up in the morning he had throwed his blankets on me. In a few days we found the horses we were looking for, and as our horses were tired, we decided to catch fresh horses out of the bunch we found to ride. We drove them up against a cut bank and roped two of them. One was a nice looking little fellow—the other one was a big, sleepy-looking guy. So I offered him his choice of the two horses. He thought the little horse looked kind of wild, so took the big fellow. However, when he went to saddle him he found him pretty bravo. Anyway he got on him and the show started. This fellow had the longest nose I ever saw on a man. Some way in the bucking and mix-up, the saddle horn hit him on that big nose, but he rode him. I went to stop our loose horses and waited for him to catch up. When he came to where I was, the first thing I saw of him was that big nose—all blood and swelled up twice as big as it was before. I pretended not to see it and looked the other way, and asked him how he liked his horse. He said, “How do I like him? Look at my nose!” and, of course, I had to look. Well, I nearly fell off my horse laughing, which I was ashamed of, but I couldn’t help it, as he was sure a funny sight and he being such a grouch made it more comical. I nicknamed him “Curlew,” which is a bird with a long bill. When we got back to the ranch the other boys all took up the name and called him Curlew. This lasted about a week and he was getting pretty sore. So one day he called us all together and said, “The next man that calls me ‘Curlew’ can shed his coat and get ready for battle. I am not going to stand for this name any longer.” Now this fellow could sure fight and we all knew it, so he got nothing but silence—but we still called him Curlew behind his back. One day there was a bunch of us riding—most of us was behind him. I whistled like a curlew. He stopped and turned around and looked us over. He didn’t know who had whistled, but he looked at me pretty vicious, so I was careful where I whistled after that.